Hadrian’s Arch, erected in Athens by one of Greece’s many conquerers. On the southeast side, the Roman Emporer had carved “This is Athens, the ancient city of Theseus.” On the reverse, he’d written “This is the city of Hadrian, and not of Theseus.” Hadrian had issues.

A taverna on the island of Evia waits in darkness for the lights to come back on. The power was shut off while I was dining there, but that didn’t stop the owner from preparing my lunch on a charcoal grill.

The first bailout in Greek history. A sign at the Oracle at Delphi reads “The Emperor Caesar Domitianus, son of the divine Vespasian, Augustus Germanicus, Chief Priest, three times holder of tribunician power, father of the fatherland, hailed Imperator seven times, consult ten times, designated consul eleven times, repaired the temple of Apollo at his own expense. ”

"So what's the mood like in town right now," I asked my cab driver shortly after arriving in Athens, Greece. My visit, a family vacation that had been planned well before Greece's economy had begun destabilizing, had brought me there just weeks after a riot in Syntagma Square had resulted in three dead in a bank bombing.

"It's been very warm," the cabby responded. "For three days, we had very bad rain but it's clearing up."

There's a good chance my cabby didn't speak English.

But it's also quite likely that to him, the economy, the stability of the European Union, the threat of austerity measures, none of that could dent the joy that Greeks draw from the beautiful place they call home.

After all, Moody's can do what they will with Greece's credit rating (it was recently downgraded to "junk" status), the European Union and the International Monetary Fund can impose all the austerity measures in the world (public workers saw pay freezes, retirement age was raised and pensions were slashed) and the Greek government can attempt to sell the country bit by bit (current plans include auctioning off shares in the postal service and railways), but it won't dull the radiant blue of the Aegean. It won't make the silhouette of the Parthenon against the rising sun any less breathtaking. It won't make souvlaki any less tasty.

My first stop was the Plaka, where the sound of the economy shattering couldn't be heard over the constant chatter of the merchants. In fact, I would find out later that as the cabbie was dodging my question, he'd also been dodging another demonstration that had broken out at Syntagma. Despite the upheaval just blocks away, the Plaka hummed with shopping-frenzied tourists out looking for a bargain.

The Plaka is a historical part of Athens dedicated to being a one-stop shop for souvenirs, knock-off designer belts, local crafts and statues of extremely aroused satyrs (satyrs are almost always depicted as being comically well-hung. When the Olympics came to town, a statue of a satyr was castrated to avoid offending athletes from other countries. If the stories I've heard about what goes on in the Olympic village are true, they needn't have bothered).

It may have been business as usual in the Plaka, but not every industry was weathering the storm as easily.

Dmitri was another cab driver I rode with on my trip. Dmitri was born in Georgia (as in the country) and came to Greece chasing the tourism trade. He'd endured this far, but the steep taxes levied by the government, coupled with the decline in tourism meant that for him the time had come to find a way out.

"I have to spend 200,000 Euros for my license," he explained in broken English, tinted with an accent straight out of a James Bond film. "When I fill up my tank with petrol, it's another 100 Euros with the VAT tax. I'll work a 15-hour day and only make 150 Euros. That leaves me with 50 Euros to show for an entire day."

Dmitri told me about a friend who moved to Greece around the same time he did. His friend has since moved on and now drives a cab in Chicago. As soon as he can somehow save up the money, Dmitri said he plans on following him.

Athens is still enough of a tourist draw to support a thriving business in the Plaka, but smaller towns like Marathon are struggling. Driving in, it was immediately evident that the number of visitors to this coastal town had dried up. Empty tavernas stood watch over sandy beaches bereft of visitors, forcing the maitre des to up their aggressive sales pitch, which is already sort of standard practice in Greece.

"You. Eat here. I have the best food. You should eat here," one of them said as we walked by their taverna, whose name I'm not about to attempt to translate. I couldn't say no to a persuasive slogan like that so in we went.

It was here that I met Mike, a local out enjoying the scenery with his wife. Mike has grown children who are struggling to make ends meet, and he expressed the uncertainty so many are facing there.

"Geographically, this is a beautiful country," he told me, a shadow passing over his bright Greek smile. "But what the government is doing is worse and worse."

Distrust in the government seemed to be a common thread among the people I talked to. The kindest thing I heard politicians called over there was corrupt. The rest of the time, the words they used were nigh unprintable. The majority of seats in Greece's parliament are held by the Panhellenic Socialist Movement, by the way, not that I expect the Vox to have anything to say about it.

"It's getting to be like a third world country," Mike added.

Looking around at this stunning country, and the genuinely warm people who call it home, it's hard to see that as Greece's future. These are hard-working people in desperate times. At one taverna on the island of Evia, the power was shut off due to the owner getting behind on his bills (just as I had reached the windowless bathroom, incidentally). The owner simply gave me a lantern to take to the WC and prepared our lunch on a charcoal grill. It was hard not to be impressed by his resourcefulness (or the fact that he somehow cooked spaghetti on that thing).

It might be overly optimistic, especially given how their misfortune has spread to other parts of Europe, but it seems like the Greeks are going to make it.

After all, looking at that famous silhouette of the Parthenon, scattered stones stretching towards the sky, you're reminded that Greece has endured occupations, wars, poverty and catastrophes of every stripe throughout its history. Greece can survive this.

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